


Endings

by RedSnow1



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Bittersweet, Carrying, Doctor's thoughts, Episode: s08e08 Mummy on the Orient Express, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love, Missing Scene, Sad, Soft Twelfth Doctor, Twelfth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24627409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: Missing scene from Mummy on the Orient-Express.The Twelfth Doctor is carrying a very unconscious Clara out of the TARDIS, to the beach./OS/
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Endings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Just a quick OS I wrote for the rewatch of Mummy on the Orient-Express, inspired by a fanart of the Doctor carrying Clara out. I wish we could have seen that scene so here is it. I gave it a go, and tried my best!
> 
> Thank you to my best friend Alice for helping me out with grammar. You are an absolute angel <3
> 
> Enjoy and don't hesitate to comment to let me know what you thought of it!

Clara was lying on the TARDIS floor, patiently waiting and sound asleep. Everyone else had gone now — dropped off to the nearest civilized planet. The doors had finally closed behind the last passenger, leaving him relieved and finally free to tend to his friend. He hadn’t had time to take care of his companion, overwhelmed by their questions and cries. _Where are we? What happened?_ He hadn’t answered any of them, only making sure that Clara was still breathing and had left her to rest, ushering the rest of the Orient-Express’ passengers outside. Clara wouldn’t have approved of his methods — she would have said that he was being rude. That these people were in shock and needed to be handled carefully. He couldn’t understand why. They were safe. He had saved them all. All he wanted was to make sure that the woman who accompanied him throughout his journey was alright too.

He owed her that. That, and so much more… 

They were alone now. Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS, as it should be. _One last time_ , he admitted sadly. But now was not the time to dwell on those thoughts. He sighed, rushing to her.

She was huddled on the side; her fist clenched, curled up in a foetal position. She had never looked so small — so fragile. He found himself scrutinizing her delicate features. How peaceful she looked now that her face was devoid of the anger that seemed to accompany her ever since their adventure on the moon... He thought of the way she had screamed at him three weeks before. Her anger. Her anguish. He thought of the tears rolling down her cheeks. Of her words, hurtful and yet so right. He had scared her. He had abandoned her when she needed him most. He had offended her by trying to do the right thing, putting their relationship in jeopardy. If only she could see he had meant no harm… 

He grinned bitterly. How could someone be as innocent and scary at the same time, he wondered? But the answer to his question was simple. She was and always had been his impossible girl. Nothing would ever change that.

The Doctor crouched in front of his companion, scanning her with his sonic while covering her entire body. The device whirred, breaking the eery silence. The Doctor patiently waited. Worry was written all over his face, his eyebrows knitted together, his lips forming a tight line. He was afraid Clara had hurt herself in the process after she had fainted, her head hitting the ground rather forcefully. How he wished he had caught her. He usually did. But there was no time, and he would have done it if he hadn’t been busy trying to save all the passengers. Trying to save her. To show her he cared.

The Doctor sighed with relief when he saw that her readings were normal — her fall would have only left a nasty bump. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his silver locks. Clara was well. And she will be. He would always make sure of that. 

Out of pure tenderness, his hand removed a strand of brown hair away from her round face ever so delicately, his finger unintentionally grazing her cheek. Her skin was cold, goosebumps were spreading on her arms and legs. She was freezing, her short dress doing nothing to keep her warm. Clara was looking paler than usual, he thought. He considered settling her into her room, but then he remembered that Clara hadn’t used it in months. Ever since he had changed. Was she no longer feeling at home? he sighed. Perhaps what she needed was a bowl of fresh sea air. He hoped it would be enough to return the pinky shade to her cheeks. It probably wouldn’t do her any harm, wouldn’t it? Should he wake her up? He didn’t have the heart to do so. He didn’t want to disturb her peaceful rest.

The Doctor hurried off and grabbed a couple of picnic blankets he always kept around to keep her warm. Gently, he folded her arms on her chest so it wouldn’t get in the way as he wrapped her into the wool fabric, adding a few more layers before scooping her carefully. He held his breath, hoping not to have roused her, but Clara didn’t budge, and her eyes remained screwed shut. A light breath was escaping her parted lips, steady. 

He secured her, his hands resting at the crook of her knee, the other safely on her back. She was not particularly heavy, nor light: Clara felt just right in his arms, her head resting between his two hearts. Listening to their beating like a lullaby. 

After their brief adventure, she deserved some rest. She was human after all — it was easy to forget. She needed more sleep than he did. But Clara was often so eager to jump into his TARDIS and run away — he often failed to remember than she was more breakable than he was. That was the thing with Clara Oswald. It was easy to think she was just like him, and yet so different. 

He smirked softly, staring at her with a heavy heart. Counting her eyelashes in hopes to remember. Mapping the moles on her face and the exact curve of her funny little nose. Taking in that beautiful face he hadn’t gotten to see up close for so long. Holding tight to this image for rainy days, when she would not be by his side. 

He exhaled shakily. Clara, his Clara. She looked so happy in her slumber. How could he want to wake her up? The Doctor knew that as soon as her pretty eyes would flutter open, everything would be over. The anger would return to her eyes. She would leave. And he didn’t like endings.

The Doctor went outside, carrying her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. The TARDIS door flew open, letting him through. Whenever he walked, he could feel her head lolling against him. He was hoping that the movement wouldn’t wake her up just yet. What would she think if she woke up to him carrying her like that? Clara would have laughed at him, starting yet another banter. After all, he had proclaimed that he was not a hugging person, and here he was, carrying the woman out of his TARDIS, holding on to her as if she were a lifeboat. She would have made fun of him — if she hadn’t been angry at him. His heart leapt sorrowfully in his chest. He rarely enjoyed being close to people, but with Clara, he couldn’t bring himself to mind too much. Was he escorting her outside for her sake or his? He was not sure anymore. Would that make him selfish if he wanted to spend some time with her before she left?

He trusted her.

He loved her.

He didn’t want to lose her.

And so he made his way onto the beach, carrying his companion steadily, trying not to stumble on the rocky path. The wind was softly blowing her hair into her face, and she scrunched her nose. _How endearing_ , he thought, knowing that the more he allowed himself to be charmed by her, the harder it would be to let her go. But with every step he took, he knew he was walking closer to the end. How he wished he never had to stop running with her. Holding her hand, facing dangers, just the two of them. But everything ended, and he had to come in terms with that. Her life, her choice. He couldn’t push her to stay with him, even though it was everything he ever wanted.

He walked some more, and she heavily sighed in her sleep, distracting him from his thoughts. He froze, waiting to see if she was awaking, but she only mumbled before settling again between his hearts. Was she dreaming? He could find out if he wanted to but chose to respect her privacy. He wished her slumber was filled with dreams and not nightmares. She had been through a lot lately. Because of him. If he could shield her from any more pain, he would. Clara Oswald only deserved the best. If only he knew how to show her that. He held her tighter, her hair grazing his chin. He could make out the delicate scent of her flowery shampoo, a fragrance that followed her everywhere she went. He chuckled. To him, it smelled like home.

Finding a pleasant spot in the sunlight, close to the sand, the Doctor delicately set her down on the rocks, displaying the other blankets under her so that the pebbles wouldn’t be too uncomfortable for her back. His hand was supporting her head, his fingers entwined between her delicate locks. He slowly removed it and she sighed in her sleep and held the blankets tighter. He immediately missed the warmth of her body as he let her go, but found himself caressing her cheek.

“Oh, Clara Oswald.” He whispered sadly.

He wanted to tell her how sorry he was. How he wished he could go back in time and fix their relationship he cherished. It was impossible. It was too late. 

He wanted to beg her to stay with him. He could always say that many planets had yet to be explored and saved, that the world could be better with her kindness. Or he could admit that it was him who really needed help.

If only he could show how lost he would be without her. Clara was the only person who could help him stay grounded. Clara kept him from going too far. She was human, and it was all he needed. She was human, and he loved her. He would miss her, her smile, her laugh… her presence by his side. His heart would never forget her, yearning for her, searching among the stars for that pretty smile.

He didn’t know whether he was a good man or not. But he was trying to be. For her. To be worthy of her.

But he never said those words. What was the point? She was unconscious, and he was the Doctor. He would never admit those feelings. It would hurt too much and he couldn’t bear it. Not anymore. He was tired of losing people.

Besides, they sounded like a farewell, and he didn’t want to say goodbye. Not now. Not ever.

He wasn’t sure how to express it, anyway. Words were just that… _words_. But they could never convey what they could have been, what they should have become. Everything he could see, everything that was meant to be. It could never convey the emotions, the raw feelings eating him alive, breaking both of his hearts day after day.

“My Clara…” He said, his finger trailing her cheek softly.

The Doctor just whispered her name and smiled sadly. He had never realized how much he loved saying it out loud. _Clara_. How many times had he uttered those two syllables? And yet, none of them mattered, except now. Such sweetness in the sound of her name. Such delicacy. It really did fit her well.

And he looked at her again.

Maybe it was the last time he got to say it.

Maybe he would never get to see her. Ever.

_To our last hurrah,_ he thought bitterly.

His fingers left her skin, abruptly. He took a step away as if he had been burnt, leaving his sleeping beauty on the ground, safe and warm. For a while, he paced back and forth in front of her sleeping form, worried and bothered. Finding a stick on the beach, he began tracing patterns on the sand, waiting for her to wake up. Gallifreyan writings, nothing that would make sense to her, or anyone ever. He kept his mind and body busy, trying not to think of the ending. Failing to do so. And he wanted to run. Run away so he wouldn’t have to face it, as he always did. 

Not everything can be avoided, he thought.

He was so lost in his thoughts he barely noticed when Clara’s eyes opened. And suddenly, she was wide awake, staring at him in confusion. Her big brown eyes searching his, her hair floating in the wind. She was beautiful. She would always look beautiful to him.

He smiled softly, trying to reassure her.

“Oh, hello again. Sleep well?” He said, his tone unbothered.

He played it cool, pretending that everything was fine, holding his stick for dear life. He was good at that. Pretending. Lying. But so was she. And he knew he wouldn’t fool her.

He knew she could see his pain and hear both of his hearts screaming: _don’t leave me._

And Clara smiled in return.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @EvilMarie1  
> Thank you for reading and see you around soon!


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